Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Writers Camp [ Day Four ] Plot&Bunnies Reveal!

Plot Bunny (1)Your Protagonist has just lost his/her sight. He/she wakes up alone, isolated. He/she can hear voices a little way off. His/her hand's are bound and there are strange bandages surrounding his/her head. Where is he/she? Why is he/she there? Where is he/she supposed to be? What now?

I Present A Beginning Chapter! (This actually relates to a book I'm working on about sisters. I'm really excited because I haven't been able to do too much with it yet, but this gave me a sort of jumping board. I kind of know where to go with it now.)

She woke up in a room that smelled like winter. She could feel her hands pinned together in front of her by some sort of heavy chain, cold and sharp against her tender skin. She tried to sit up and instantly felt a surging, rabid pain flood her head. Quickly, she lay back down. She now noticed that her ankles were shackled too and her feet seemed to be bare. They were simply so numb she hadn't noticed until now that there was nothing guarding them from the chill. Far below her feet she could hear a distant murmur of voices. So she wasn't wholly alone, then. But why was it so cold? Where was she?

As these questions entered her frightfully muddled head, she took in two things at once. First, that she could feel nothing upon her eyes, yet she had open them and seen nothing. The second, was that her mind was as dark as the world around her, offering no answers to her present predicament. It couldn't even bring her name to the surface. She struggled not to panic. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Her breath was thin and coarse, and whether for that, or for the fact that she was finally starting to sense feeling under the numb pricks encasing her skin, she became aware of a strange pain in her chest. It seemed to spread for her back, through her ribs and into her legs, rough and sore. It made breathing difficult. Carefully, carefully, she drug herself forward, feeling her way with her fingers. The ground beneath her was terribly cold, almost wet. It reminded her of something. Ah yes. Ice. She jerked to a stop, the length of her chains apparently coming to an end. So she turned and tried the other way.

At last she felt a wall against her fingertips, just as cool as the floor beneath her. She leaned up against it and waited, listening.

She had just drifted off again, when she heard something like a metal gate being lifted seemingly only a few feet away. She kept still, wondering what on earth was going to happen next. There was the soft pad of leather shoes against ice and then, hands on her face. This made her start so violently that the hands fell away. She kicked out with her feet.

"Stay back," She rasped. Her voice was strange, she noticed. The accent was deep. rough. How strange the experiencing that you were hearing yourself for the first time.

"Now, now, none of that," said the voice. It was a man's voice, high and silly. "I was just trying to make sure of a pulse, is all. Most people die in here after the first night. Especially the likes of you." She heard some more shuffling, then he was back. "I've brought you something to drink," he said. "It's hot, so don't burn your pretty little tongue. We'll be needing it later." She felt a flask get placed in her hands, but they were so numb and stiff she had difficult feeling the heat from the liquid inside. She took one careful sip, then another. The liquid was warm and strong, the taste odd, but not bad. She quickly finished off the flask. "There you are," said the man. "That's a good girl." She heard to sound of water splashing, his voice, "I'm going to see to your eyes now," and the touch of a towel against her face. The towel was warm and there seemed to be more than just water on it. Suddenly she was very, very aware that her eyes were injured. She flinched back, but a hand came behind her neck to stop her movements. The man was quick,and not cruel, but the ointment on the towel was burning, and with every touch he seemed to reveal more cuts and bruises. What had happened to her? She couldn't say. In a few minutes the procedure was done. There was some more shuffling. "I'm putting a bandage about your eyes," he said. "Don't hit me." She felt the material on her skin. It seemed to have some of the same ointment on it that the towel had. It burned, but not unbearably, and she kept quiet. She was too tired to make noise anyway. The man drew back. "See if you can get some rest there, dear. If you make it to this evening we'll see what her Ladyship has planned for you."

She heard leather on ice, the sound of a gate, then silence again. She leaned against the wall, breathing shallowly. Her eyes hurt. Her head hurt, hurt with emptiness. Her lids closed on muddled, strange tears.

"Renetta?" Another hushed voice filmed the room, this time from behind. It seemed to be coming from the wall itself. Inquisitive, she turned to face the wall and answered back, in the same tone, "Hello? Is someone there?"

""Oh, Renetta! Yes, Yes! I'm here. My cell is just opposite yours. What luck." The man's voice dropped with anxious relief. "It is you, isn't it? I'd recognize your voice anywhere. Its so good to hear you! I was sick when I heard they brought you here. I'm so sorry. You never should have been caught. I don't know what went wrong"

"You don't remember," Purcello repeated, soft and tight. "Yes, I know you. We're friends, you and I. You promised me to stay behind at camp. I thought you'd be safe there." He paused. "What do you remember?"

"Nothing." Renetta. Her mind rolled the named around like the sea does a stone. Renetta. Unfortunately, the sea could not tell this stone anything about itself.

"You certainly do; and we found her. Listen, Renetta - " Before Purcello could finish Renetta heard metal scrapping and rising, and a confused scuffle as her informant scrambled away from the wall. She heard the same high voice that had been in her cell only a few minutes early. Purcello raised his voice, perhaps for her benefit. "No! I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"That's what you say!" the voice shot back. She heard something that sounded like a sharp thwuck. A heavy dragging noise. The gate lowering again. A Silence, so much grimmer than the silence before.

Purcello had been taken. She was alone again. She was a prisoner; and her gut told her she was in terrible danger.

Writing Prompt (6) Did you think the blankets could hide you from me? Well, I suppose that's what all children think.

This prompt turned into a poem. *shrug* A sort of creepy poem.

Monster, Monster under the bed, creaking, creaking,

Smelling of dread

No one tells you the truth about Monsters

That they can hide anywhere, in closets, in cupboardsNo one tells you how much they can doThat they're full of anger, that they're actually real.All the grown ups smile and humor you,Checking the closets, 'There's Nothing There'The floor boards are empty. You're safe and soundYou've nothing to fear. It's funny that no one knows, Monsters can hid in the ceiling and walls. They can slip in the dark, become one with the shadows.No one can see them, nobody knowsThey actually exist; Your fears are true.Well, perhaps I speak too harshly when I say Nobody Knows.Children are clever. Children can see.Children hear the crawling, children aren't deceived.Lights go out, drapes are shut. Shivering child, all bundled up. Wrapped in your blankets, how funny you are!Did you think the blankets could hide you from me?Well, I suppose... that's what all children think.

There's my finished bunny/prompt! I can't wait to see all of yours. This is fun!

8 comments:

Wow! I liked this first chapter (and hooray for getting inspiration and completing this chapter!!), especially that opening line. And then later, the remark, "We'll see what her Ladyship has planned" almost made me sit upright.

The suspense gets better and deeper with each character who enters! Also, I like the girl's name: it's pretty and unique, but not weird. :-)

Also, your sensory descriptions are good ad nicely varied--which works well because the character can't see.

Pile of good things

"I think the great tragedy of this world is the suffering that goes to waste." - V. Fulton J. Sheen.

_

Never stop dreaming. Never stop loving. Never stop hoping.

How do you adult? 8-/

I like to be called Bella . I'm 19-years old. This is my safe place, and I hope it can be yours too. I live in the Sierra Mountains, I'm a Tradition Roman Catholic, and I grew up in a small house with a big family. I'm Italian. I like Scotland, Rome, and Spain. I believe in magic, friendship, valor, the power of imagination and dreams, and the never ending wonder of God's world. I love color, shimmer, soft blankets, tea-time, trickling streams, walks through the forest, forgotten fairy paths, summer days and winter evenings, light and warmth, coffee, dark chocolate, stuffed animals; the smell of spring, comfortable clothes, well-written stories, autumn wind, hot cocoa, and dancing sparks. I pride myself on being an avid geek. I love books, TV shows, some Anime and Manga, and all sorts of movies. I wish I could draw better. My favorite past times are singing, vidding, acting, reading and writing; I dabble! I'm up for trying new things.